


crossroads

by Wishfulthinker1



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishfulthinker1/pseuds/Wishfulthinker1
Summary: David is finding it difficult to write, his mind is full of nostalgic memories





	crossroads

Crossroads

A glance at the clock told him that he had been sitting in front of an empty page for the past hour or so, even though it felt more like a lifetime. Words had never failed him before, even in the state of the worst writers block he had ever encountered he still managed to dabble, cross out, throw some references for future use onto the paper. He never put pressure on himself to achieve the correct phrasing right from the get go, fluidity and flexibility were the name of the game, he trusted in the process even when he was unable to see the finished product. But now words seemed to be his worst enemy, even though the task at hand was seemingly a simple one, jotting down a few lines to show appreciation for a woman getting a star on the Hollywood walk of fame, a woman with whom his path had been intertwined for the past 25 years, however winding, warped and complicated surely it shouldn’t be that difficult.  
***  
They had just finished their last run of the series, five months of revisiting their past on so many levels both professionally as well as personally. Five months consisting of Nightly shoots where they became so delirious with exhaustion they just started goofing off trying to just pass the time and keep their spirits high in between takes. Five months of attempting to juggle family life while in the midst of long taxing days, slurring out what could potentially be ridiculous dialogues hoping they could make up for a blatantly failed attempt on the last season. Both of them were focused on delivering an end result that fans would be happy with and they rejoiced in this union.  
Dealing with family matters long distance got to Gillian more than she was willing to let on. It was evident when Oscar and Felix came for a visit and took on the roles of extras number 2 and 4 on the bus scene they shot for the third episode. He enjoyed seeing her undertake the role of mother being all soft and attentive, yet hard and assertive when needed. She was delighted to show them what her work was like hands on for the first time, she went out of her way to see to it that they had a positive experience. To him it seemed like there was an underlying tone of apology to her actions, as if she was both saying sorry as well as attempting to justify those long months of absence from their lives, all the times when they needed her motherly kiss, assurance or guidance and she was a millions of miles away working. When they left and went back home to London their absence hit Gillian harder than she thought it would, one would think she would be an expert at this seeing as how she did it on a regular basis, and yet this time around it weighed her down more than usual. When it rains it pours, and onscreen demands were delivering harsh doses of reality as well.  
They had a shared scene where the dialogue consisted of mulling over the future, getting old and kids, Chris had really picked the worst week to deliver such a script. Growing old, arriving at your late 40’s, having your body functions change, as well as your appearance delivered blow after continuous blow, it shook her into the realization that this was a battle that would be her ultimate demise. Her mind knew that there was no point in fighting it, but she was so far off from accepting it, permanently stuck in the stage of frustration heightened her need of flight. Usually when she was working she could throw herself so deep into her character that she would forget about private life off camera Gillian. It was the ultimate gift for her to be able to immerse herself so completely, detach from the weight of her history and the scars of her past that were permanently etched in her DNA and just live as someone else for hours at a time on a daily basis.  
But that script hit too close to home for her, even David’s embrace in the bed where those lines were delivered didn’t sooth her. His proximity only highlighted the pain of a loosing battle spiked with spite. Even his attempts at sarcastic one liners whispered into her ear as the crew were setting up the shot again hung in mid air and were not as affective as he wished they would be. It didn’t help that Chris needed to prefect this scene claiming it to be the most important scene of the episode causing the shoot to prolong throughout the whole day. When it was all over they retired to their rooms for some rest, but David knew his job was not yet done for the day.  
It is no surprise to him when she enters his room less than an hour later, he had predicted it would happen. He could sense that familiar build up within her accumulating to the point of eruption throughout the day. She doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t need to. He can smell the despair on her breath, and he recognizes that pleading look she is giving him, the one that is practically begging him to make her forget. The times she had used his body as an escape route away from the real world when the fizzling of emotions within her became too much to contain were too many to keep count of. Her artistry allowed her that release as well, that’s why she was constantly jumping from project to project, too scared that if she stood still she would be consumed whole. But sometimes cerebral escapism was not powerful enough and she needed the reinforcement in the form of a carnal solution, and that’s where he came in.  
He knows better than to protest, she has his body wired up to perfection, all she needs to do is give him the sign that it’s time to go and he is fully charged and ready for the task at hand. She doesn’t need to scan her surroundings, she grabs his hand, leading him to the open space wall she knows only too well, if it was made of soft texture her imprint would be all over it. Like a well trained puppy he follows willingly. Turning to face him she takes a few steps backwards until the cool surface of concrete is in contact with her back. A light tug at his t-shirt minimizes the distance between them and he can smell the need radiating off her every single pore mixed in with the soapy smell of her Epson salts infused with Bergamot. She pushes down her oversized lounge pants, shamelessly revealing she isn’t wearing any underwear. That’s his cue to lower his pants, but apparently he’s not keeping up with her frantic pace tonight because before he has a chance to reach for the top of his sweat pants her hand is inside his briefs. With the expertise of a drill sergeant she starts making backslide motions along his penis attempting to hurry him along. He doesn’t need too much coaxing, his member is the utmost disciplined soldier ready for the mission bestowed upon him. As he lowers his pants, dropping his briefs along with them mid thigh she slips out of her pants kicking them aside then returns to her position against the wall, a shiver runs through her and her skin turns to goose flesh as her buttocks comes in contact with the cold surface. She sucks in her breath savouring the uncomfortable rush. With a firm grasp he pulls her right leg up so its half straddling him, crouching down he pushes into her roughly, a sharp intake of breath is his only indication for approval, her eyes, even though they are still looking in his direction are coated with a foggy hue. He then proceeds to grab her butt and hoists her up, making sure her left foot is still planted firmly on the ground, simultaneously thrusting her against the wall he begins moving up and down. Her head is now closer to his chest, her hands encircle his nape and her fingers dig deep into his flesh leaving an imprint as he hits the right spots both clitoral and deep in the depths of her where the switch to her ultimate release resides. Minutes later her breath becomes a build up of rapid pants as she nears her threshold and its not long before she is thrown over the edge. She doesn’t cry out her orgasm like she does when they make love, no, this feels like a silent solitary exemption at best. If he hadn’t felt her walls rhythmically clamping around his dick he wouldn’t have been sure she had orgasmed at all. Knowing what is coming next he speeds up his own release thrusting deeply into her a few more times before spilling into her. As his breath begins its’ slowing down process he mentally counts down in his head 3-2-1, and there it is, a rush of tears with an incontrollable tsunami like force erupt out of her, accompanied by vocal sobbing. Getting her equilibrium back by planting her right foot on the ground she buries her head deep into his chest crying out her anguish. He cocoons her tightly within his embrace creating a safe space for her to just be, devoid of any expectations, exuding a sense of presence and security that she is so desperately in need of. And when the wave of crying subsides he allows her to silently leave just as she had entered, she rewards him with a grateful smile before putting her clothes back on and exiting the room, leaving him with only the lingering smells of their joint bodies and endless tribulation.  
***  
Leaving his blank page David glances out the window of his new York apartment contemplating how to write about a woman who can charm things out of you that you never knew you had with only a sparkling smile of anticipation of what’s to come. He momentarily rebukes this romanticized notion reminded that her “go to” with him is at times demanding, she delivers her need for him to be a willing participant in a situation irrefutably. Like when she confronted him with the new reality set out for her, and subsequently for them once filming in Vancouver ended. Tiny as she was she delivered what seemed to be an indisputable verdict with a stern look and a controlled vocal. Her new PR team had formulated an iron clad plan, which got her approval instantly, striking when the iron is hot. It consisted of practically cutting all ties with her legacy and the character that had made her, as well as all visual ties to the people connected to it. They branded David as a potential threat and a huge obstacle standing in the way of Gillian’s new so called public image. They wanted the cursed word “chemistry” erased from her repertoire, making it obsolete, a nostalgic thing of the past consequentially bringing what was their shared link to discontinued status. What was left for him was to shrug and accept, muting any objections, anything to not have to deal with her fury disguised as a temper tantrum which potentially threatened the no drama atmosphere he endeavoured to generate around his existence at his progressive age.  
When she signed up for another season she knew it would be her swan song, she was ready to leave it all behind her the second the “that’s a wrap” notice was thrown out in the open air, she had made sure to bury any nostalgic feels within her that could potentially tempt her to ever look back. She was an expert runner, she jokingly contemplated putting that on her CV at one point in time. She often found herself feeling claustrophobically trapped in a point of no return, and so she did the only thing she could do, pull a disappearing act, run so far away and hide in a bubble stationed in her mind where there were no consequences to her actions and her sanity seemed to be more or less intact. Coming face to face yet again with her love-hate relationship for the show that practically schooled her for nearly a decade caused an ongoing unnerving feel throughout filming. There were times where she just found herself documenting any silly thing around her for the fans sake, for her own keepsake, she would capture silly moments with David, and created stand alone moments with him when he wasn’t aware she had her camera phone directed at him. Thinking if she could just encapsulate these precious moments they would be a sufficient dosage to outweigh the residual bitterness that she often encountered upon receiving a new script and realizing she would have to compromise her artistry and talent. During New York comic con that dormant volcano inside her could be contained no more, it didn’t take much for it to achieve active status and she found herself defensively and yet blatantly putting it out there, she was quitting. It felt freeing at that given moment to not be the sole bearer of that secret, but as the ricochets started rolling in they had an unexpected harsh physical affect on her in the form of panic attacks. Her ability to compartmentalize had diminished for some reason, she blamed it on David’s ability of engrossing her in a bubble of funny and happy, making her forget her need for controlled structure.  
***  
“This is fucking ridiculous” David scolds himself at allowing a swarm of nostalgia to infest his brain making it a total of two hours and thirteen minutes battling creative demons and coming out the other side holding the short end of the stick. For a split second he contemplates giving up altogether on the task at hand, usually he excels in adjusting to her rules and regulations. He has gotten far too good at censoring himself for her sake but the limitations put on him now mimic striking a deal with the devil. Had he been given the liberty many inappropriate conflicting feelings would have made their way onto that piece of paper, but the need to protect her as much as he possibly could from the public eye whether she needed that protection or even wanted it would always be a priority for him. He picks up his guitar starting a slow rhythmical strum hoping to create a dam for those rushing rivers of continuous lingering memories infiltrating him.  
He plucks at the strings, the vibration bringing on a meditative like state of conscious where inner knowledge becomes vivid. He realizes he is still making amends with her, even decades later residual guilt still resides within him. She was high up on the list of people he had vowed to treat better back in the day when he was working the program in rehab, dealing with his addiction. He had been an ass to her, plain and simple, he never wanted to turn what was between them into anything serious, and so he just strung her along. From time to time he would make gestures, throw empty words into the air that would ensure she stayed on his leash. He never took into account the constant scarring he had left on her heart. As much as he enjoyed the random carnal release in between the sheets he got off on knowing that women were falling for him left and right, that he could randomly pick his hearts desire at any given moment. He was in need of that forever ego stroking and stopped at no lengths to attain it.  
She was just another woman stubbornly refusing to get out of that continuous line, she was drawn to the potential disaster of what that spelled out for her and he was inclined to pick her over and over again on different occasions due to that exact outcome. He kept telling himself that it was due to circumstance, but in retrospect if he had taken a moment and deflated his ego he might have figured out that they could have been much more than random and circumstantial. Settling down into anything hinting at long time commitment back then felt to him the equivalent of a death sentence. But the fact of the matter was he could never stop repeatedly picking her out of that damn line. Even nowadays she remains his weakness, a soft spot that will never grow rigid, only this time around the tables seem to have turned and thinking of her as part of his constant ongoing future was all he could think about.  
***  
He wasn’t sure why her panic attacks had returned. He assumed it was a mixture of having to deal with the backlash she was getting with regards to the news of her and Scully parting ways as well as coming to terms with having to go through the process of saying goodbye all over again as she did back in 2002 when the original run of the show had ended. Factor in the fact that her youngest son was ill and she couldn’t be by his side and there you have it, the perfect recipe for a panic attack. He was alert enough to read her body language that day on set, seeing her hand twitching turn into full blown shaking and her breath quickening as they were sitting waiting to be called on set. He helped her up steadying her, “slow and steady, I got you”, reminding her to breath to her abdomen and not to her chest he guided her outside to get some fresh air. Even though she tried protesting that she was ok through that startled look on her face, she clutched his waist for dear life, leaning into him as she took small wobbly steps on high heels while trying to keep it together. That incident catapulted him back to his own experience. That night in rehab where he found himself at a crossroads, facing the realization that part of healing meant parting ways with a big chunk of his ego, brought on his first panic attack. In the after math of the uncontrollable shaking limbs, weak knees, head spinning mindlessly, and the inability to grab hold of anything tangible he gained the utmost respect for Gillian. When the shaking had diminished and his rapid breathing subsided all he wanted to do was get into bed and revert back to his childhood days where it was still acceptable to sleep with a stuffed animal and a night light for comfort, and when it got really bad you could wander in the middle of the night and find solace in your parents warm bed.  
He marvelled at Gillian’s capability in the 90’s to push through all of the emotional drainage in the aftermath of an attack and just keep going, even insisting they continue shooting a scene and delivering a stellar Scully scepticism only moments later. Her strength despite her small exterior frame was a mind blowing to him. While falling into the abyss, mid attack, he remembered those blue eyes of her, how they managed to anchor him to a scene in a way that made him forget he was acting, she made him feel like Fox Mulder, like the X-files were as much a reality as his next intake of breath. As his pulse raced and his heart beat practically out of his chest mid attack back then he wished he could reach out for her to be his anchor once more, to quiet down the tornado that was swirling around within him. Years later he still wondered why it was her image that his subconscious had conjured up and not the image of Tea’ in this hour of need.  
***  
That night, as shooting was nearing its’ end it felt like the aftermath of a storm, everyone hit their marks and no unnecessary time was wasted on repeating scenes, it seemed like they would be able to end earlier than anticipated. Spirits were high, unlike the weeks beforehand where Gillian seemed guarded and defensive still battling her sporadic panic attacks. Her work was naturally unaffected, after all she was forever a professional, but he was starting to lose his patience with her chilly disposition towards him with the way she seemed to intentionally ward him off. She could sense the end approaching, her levels of restlessness heightened and brought out the hermit like quality in her, she would practically vanish into thin air the moment the director yelled for a wrap.  
But that night there was a shift in her demeanor, before the last take they were discussing her star on the walk of fame, she went into that hearty laugh of hers as she cracked a joke about how it looked to her like a twisted take on a tombstone of sorts which meant she and David would be buried next to each other never parting ways. Even through his chuckle he identifies the romantic flare of said remark. Coming from Gillian, who’s sense of love was quite different from that of his own her words increased the tug at his heart strings reaffirming just how precious this woman was to him. Before walking off set to get her wig taken off she approaches him with a content smile and a calmness about her, she cups his cheek and presses her lips to his, lingering for longer than a heartbeat. Even through that closed mouth kiss he can make out a hint of chocolate on her breath, when she is truly in that content peaceful state of hers she indulges in something sweet. Tonight it was left over chilly chocolate delivered by a fan as a token of appreciation to one of their filming locations.  
Watching her walk away he is filled with the need to immerse himself in the exuberating warmth of her current state of being, no resentment or judgment for the former weeks. Reminded that soon there will be oceans between them once more and that he will be waking on the other side of the world from her, the notion of having to endure days without her company fills him with the longing to just feel her body alongside his in bed throughout the night. Calculating her nightly routine consisting of a shower, catching up with her kids and then curling up with a good book or tomorrows script before being overtaken by sleep, he figures he has some time to spare before knocking at her door.  
After a soothing long shower and a change of clothes he slips into her bedroom, the room is dark except for a dimmed light from a bedside lamp casting its light on her tiny figure. She is lying on her side with her back towards him engulfed under the blanket. Not sure she is asleep yet but not wanting to wake her up if she was he quietly walks across the room and slowly climbs into bed beside her, she stirs, and silently speaks his name. He peels the blanket off her shoulders revealing a spaghetti strap top, his eyes linger on her wound tight frame for a few seconds and his heart sinks. Moving closer he plants a soft kiss across her shoulder blade. She had hardened, and it isn’t only the physical exterior of her having lost so much weight. Being of small build to begin with any loss was bound to show up as protruding bones in between borderline unhealthy muscle formations, but it was more severe than that, upon second glance her body seems to have shed the soft exterior that would ignite his senses upon touch. Her physical state mirroring the turmoil that now resides within her. All he feels now is anguish rising up from the pit of his stomach upwards, stopping at his chest in a constringent motion. She never looked so frail to him, raw and exposed, a fraction of what he knew her to be. He was always aware of her petite size and yet he never physically felt he needed to protect her despite their size differences, not in the bedroom or anywhere else, she was feisty and could hold her own, and in the bedroom she gave as strenuously as she received, keeping up and even upping the game.  
He had noticed her panic attacks dulling her appetite which had been wavering to begin with. Her ability to forget to eat sounded like a foreign concept to him, unfathomable even, and when she did eat she wouldn’t sit down and savour a meal, it was usually on the go while multi tasking. She would pick out components out of her sandwich making them her meal and then rush off to something seemingly more important than feeling satiated. A surge of anger passed through him as he reprimanded himself for letting it come to this state, for all the times he found almost full cola cans and half empty Starbucks coffee cups ignoring the gut feeling that it had been her only sustenance for that day and not insisting she sit down with him for a proper meal. It’s easier to be angry with himself rather than her, he was what trained psychologists would call an enabler. He wasn’t proud of it but it was a force stronger than him, one which had only grown to beast like qualities as he got older and more specifically with her. He would pretty much do anything for her, some would call it whipped, he just called it the permanent force needed within his heart to keep it functioning well. In a way denying her would feel like denying himself. So he seldom did, even when he knew that it was needed, like now. 

His hand slides around her waist as he pulls her in closer, cocooning her with his body, engulfed in the sorrow of what has become of her flowing through his veins with every beat of his heart. Feeding off of his touch, almost instinctively she begins a rubbing motion of her backside against his groin. Even though he can’t see her face he can imagine the faint smile on it, identifying her action as a preface to steamy satisfactory sex. Only he wishes she would stop, sex is the last thing on his mind at this given point in time. He stays still, breathing in the smell of her and chasing away a fleeting worrisome thought.  
“Did you just fall asleep on me?” she untangles herself from his hold and turns to face him, upon finding him very much awake she licks her lips and smiles her approval. Her hand darts under the covers seeking his arousal, finding him flaccid and uninterested, potentially a first time occurrence for him and them as far as she can recall. Realizing he was not into pleasing her sexual demands, not even the romantic tender vanilla sex she was willing to have with him, she pulls her hand away, shooting him a scoffing glance defiantly challenging him “what the hell is wrong with you?”  
“Why are you so bent out of shape on destroying yourself?” He confronts her, his voice on the verge of cracking under the weight of the words he is about to deliver. “Do you realize your taking people down in the midst of it all? Are you even aware of your actions nowadays ?” She shoots him a confused look, still unsure that this isn’t some weird foreplay that he had conjured up on a dysfunctional whim in the middle of the night, a preface to some rough sex, just the way she liked it. “What people are you talking about?” she emotes her complete confusion. He want to say me, but instead what comes out of his mouth is “You won’t even give our fans a proper goodbye, why must they be made to watch the last season with a black cloud foreshadowing it just because you need to run away from it all? I know you are better than that.”  
“For fuck sakes David, tell me you didn’t get into my bed with the sole purpose of telling me off about something that happened months ago”, she spat shifting uncomfortably into a more guarded body posture beside him. As usual she kept her emotional bandwidth to a minimum not feeling any need to defend her irresponsible behaviour.  
Ignoring her minor outburst of anger he focuses on his own. Only when he speaks again the hurt echoes through his vocals instead, with acerbic traces.  
“Were you contemplating showing me the same courtesy as you did your fans when saying good bye to me this time around? Or did you just think you would end it all with one last rough fuck against the wall and then board your plane on to your next venture?”  
His words stung, and her cheeks flushed with anger, but needing to defend her libido rather than her heart she frowns retorting with “I thought you enjoyed our little fuck sessions” her tone now wearing the intention of desensitizing her current mood showing no traces of the warmth she had displayed on set only hours before.  
His next words aimed for her heart. “Even wrong feels right at times” he confesses gloomily. By remaining in his limp state he had disarmed her of her most functional weapon of choice. He feels the guilt of said action like an open wound consuming his insides and for a split second he contemplates backing down. Lets fuck until we erase all trace of this moment all traces of this moment, he contemplates. But instead he finds himself reaching for her hand, bringing her tattooed wrist towards him he feels the warmth of her skin against his lips as he leaves an evaporating mark before he continues.  
“Endings and goodbyes don’t need to be a lonely plunge into an abyss Gil, pain will not consume you whole if you stop running away from it and just allow yourself to share it with someone next to you, it doesn’t have to feel like death is knocking at your door. There must be a way at it which will allow some mobility and isn’t so final.” He pauses for an intake of breath before continuing. “I don’t want to be your escape from reality Gil, I want to live in a reality with you, I want to be factored into your life however challenging it may be. Why can’t I just fucking be enough?” He dares to look up for the first time since beginning his verbal rush, half expecting a metaphoric slap in the form of an icy stare from her eyes. Instead he is relieved to see a glistening formation of tears.  
Her head gestures towards his chest, kissing a spot on his sternum, and lays her head gently against it in an unsure manner. She shifts the lower half of her body nestling into him, despite the height difference their bodies always find a way of creating a unique adequate equation, even now when they seem to be worlds apart they still manage formulating a perfect fit.  
He can feel her body shaking from the sheer force of his words echoing within her, and he takes solace in that for now, accepting it’s a choice she will have to make alone and that it will take time. He silently prays that when they are oceans apart she will choose well, and thanks god for making him a patient man.  
***  
His last resort after yet another failed attempt at getting ink on paper through music meditation was to nibble on some “Defonce” white chocolate with green Matcha tea. A while back when he needed to find a way to calm his nerves before a singing gig he found the California based company specializing in weed infused chocolates in the form of cleverly shaped pyramid segments. He found it to be an adequate alternative to getting totally wasted on alcohol and potentially forgetting his own written lyrics up on stage. After ingesing two segments, as per the recommended dosage on the packaging he felt more at ease, his mind wasn’t any sharper than before, but he had always relied on words that felt right to him and came from the heart, no matter how sophisticated and well crafted they might sound written down on paper. He takes a deep breath, sounding like a sigh on the exhale part and wrote his wishes in disguise.

“Gillian, you said you would be next to me when you died too. Well, you were right. But  
This isn’t death, it’s a beginning. So much more to come for you. In the meantime I  
Hope your fans sprinkle chocolate on your star the occasional Hollywood midnight  
And that some kind soul builds a Gilly ramp from your star to mine. We will always  
Be joined as partners, friends and neighbours. Congratulations Gillian.”

He signs it “Love David” so she never forgets the heart, no matter what her choice might be.


End file.
